


Midnight Memories

by zeigharry (mariawritesstuff)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Smut, Soz, always smut, because i'm all about zarry, because it kinda has a plot, but i did really only write it for the porn, does this count as porn without plot?, just cuz there's limited space/time/words i can throw in before people start getting bored, she sends texts, tbh in oneshots i tend to focus on the mains, that's it really, there isn't much of any character except zarry, there isn't really any Perrie in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariawritesstuff/pseuds/zeigharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are on a post-concert high and Zayn never wants to come down. Fortunately, Harry doesn't either.</p>
<p>It's kind of based off of that interview(?) in which Zayn describes and explains why they decided to call the album midnight memories and I kind of interpreted what he saying slightly differently from how he probably (or maybe not) meant. If anyone can find the interview that'd be much appreciated :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is how I think they came up with the album name, Midnight Memories. I don't have a beta (sob) so all mistakes are my own.

“That was _sick_!”

 

The boys ran onto the tour bus and pounced onto the big sofa at the back. They had just finished their show in Mexico City and it had been their biggest show _ever_. Zayn found himself squeezed between Niall and Harry (who somehow managed to tuck his ridiculously long legs under himself, even in his skin-tight jeans).

“We have _never_ done a show that big!” Liam exclaimed.

“Just think about it,” Niall chimed in, his accent thicker with excitement, “65,000 people there to see the five of us!”

“It’s mental!” Louis cried. “I’m fucking buzzing! How about you, lads?”

“Definitely!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Massively!”

Zayn grinned. He was buzzing too. Never had he felt more alive than in the moment when the wall had gone up, fully revealing the thousands of people there to see them. The whole thing felt so surreal, like it had all been just a dream. Because this was his dream. This was all he had ever wanted to do and now he was. He was doing all the things he had daydreamed about during the long, boring lessons back at school. And what more, he got to do so with four of the best friends he’d ever had. Looking around, he could see the other boys were in the same state of amazement that he was feeling. They had massive grins plastered on their faces and were even jumpier than usual, raiding the fridge and making a mess out of everything (at least Liam and Louis were).

 

Zayn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out and unlocked it to read the new text. It was from Perrie.

 

_“Hey, babe, can’t FaceTime tonight_ _L_ _”_

Zayn frowned.

 

_“Why not, babe?”_

 

_“Busy day tomorrow. They’ve called for an early night”_

Zayn suppressed a sigh.

 

_“Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”_

_“Sure. Love you, babe. Goodnight xxx”_

_“Love you too_ _xxxx”_

“You alright, Zayn?” Louis called. Zayn’s head snapped up.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Perrie can't FaceTime tonight, is all.”

“Why not?” Niall asked.

“Busy day tomorrow.”

“Ah,” the boys sighed knowingly.

“Well at least this way you can stay up with us! Instead of fucking off to your bunk.” Louis joked. Zayn opened his mouth to reply when Paul interjected.

“Sorry boys, but none of you will be staying up tonight. You’ve got interviews and rehearsal and studio time and the whole lot. You need as much sleep as you can get.”

They boys whined in unison, like a group of disappointed children. Then, leading the pack as always, Louis sprung up and attempted sprinting past Paul. Unfortunately for Louis, however, the older man had gotten used to their antics and had come with back up – Preston grabbed Louis round the waist and all but carried him into his bunk.

 

The boys grumbled and, after stripping down to just their boxers (not that Harry ever wore any), trudged into their own bunks in defeat.

“G’night, lads,” Louis called, once they were all in their beds.

“G’night,” the other boys chorused.

“G’night,” Zayn whispered to nobody in particular. In bed, he lay on his back and faced upwards, staring at (but not really seeing) the bottom of Liam’s bunk. There was no way he was falling asleep so quickly. He was still on such a high, gone on the absurdity of the reality that was his life. He couldn’t believe it. It still hadn’t sunk in, and it probably never would. Because, really, how could he have gotten so lucky? Him, the little boy frmo Bradford who never really did much and just kind of let things happen and now he was on tour and had just performed in front of 65,000 people who, like Niall said, had all come to see them. Zayn didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to cling onto this feeling forever, live in this moment for the rest of his life, and he wanted to do it with his four best mates.

 

Suddenly, Zayn’s curtain was ruffling and he frowned, turning towards the intruder. But then Harry’s questioning face came into view and Zayn relaxed.

“Can’t sleep,” the younger boy said, voice a little raw post-concert. “Can you?”

“Not a chance,” Zayn replied. Harry grinned and pulled back the sheets before clambering into Zayn’s bed and pulling the sheets over him. His eyes were spectacularly bright, if not a little dilated, and Zayn could tell that he was on a high as well. His face was inched away, what with the both of them squeezed into the tiny bed, and Zayn could feel Harry’s warm, soft breaths on his face and it brought a certain, unexplainable feeling of comfort.

“Can you believe it?” Harry whispered, “Can you believe we get to do this?”

“No,” Zayn replied truthfully. “It’s mad.”

“Mm,” Harry hummed in agreement. “Like, three years ago I lived in Holmes Chapel. _Holmes Chapel_. Most people haven’t ever even heard of Holmes Chapel. And now I’m on a tour bus in bloody Mexico City, having just performed to thousands of people!”

“65,000.”

Harry grinned. For a moment, his lips were all that occupied Zayn’s mind. They were a bright pink and looked invitingly soft and Zayn wondered what they would feel like when used in numerous ways. Then he realised and tried to push the thought out of his mind, focusing on what Harry was saying and blaming the weird thought on the extended period of time since he had last seen his girlfriend.

“65,000 people. All there for us. Seriously though, how many people get the chance to do that?”

“Not very many. We’re insanely lucky.”

Harry licked his lips.

“More than that. We’re blessed.”

But Zayn’s brain hadn’t quite gotten past the lip-licking. It had been so sudden that Zayn hadn’t been able to prepare for it and it had gone straight to his crotch. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t have been a problem – the boys had caught each other mid-wank multiple times before and boners weren’t new territory – except, this time, they were lying in bed, pressed up against each other, and the cause of the boner was his bandmate.

 

Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by Harry. But he didn’t yell or frown or struggle desperately to get out of bed. Instead, his mouth formed a small ‘o’, which really wasn’t helping Zayn’s situation. Suddenly the atmosphere shifted. The air got thicker, heavier. Harry’s breath on Zayn’s face no longer brought comfort, but instead a sensuality that, again, did nothing to alleviate the problem in Zayn’s boxers. His eyes locked onto Harry’s bright green ones and they held each other’s gaze until Harry slipped his hands under the sheets. Zayn wanted to ask what he was doing but his throat felt too dry.

 

And then Harry’s hands slid beneath the band of Zayn boxers and his long, cold fingers wrapped around Zayn’s dick, which, of course, responded instantly to the touch. Zayn frowned slightly because this was _Harry_ , his bandmate, the baby of the band, the charming one, the ladies’ man, and he had his hand around Zayn’s cock and there was just something so ridiculous about the whole thing but Zayn couldn’t find the words to tell Harry to stop. And, to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he even _wanted_ Harry to stop.

 

Harry ran his hand along Zayn’s length and Zayn let out a small gasp. The feeling of cold fingers along every inch of his dick was delightful. And the Harry started to tug lightly and Zayn let out a moan because it had been _ages_ since he had felt any hand but his own do that to him. He didn’t realise his mistake until Harry went,

“Shh!” with wide eyes and a hushed voice. Zayn clapped a hand over his mouth. They remained motionless, listening to see if anybody had stirred. After what felt like the longest seconds in the world, Zayn let his hand fall from his mouth. Harry glanced down, and then back up at Zayn’s face. When their eyes met, they erupted into a fit of hushed giggles. Because the reality of what they were doing was only just starting to seep in and _god_ it was weird. They were Zayn and Harry and they were getting off on the tour bus, with the rest of heir bandmates barely 10 metres away. And it was a testament to their post-concert high starting to fade that they realised how stupid what they were doing was. But they were still just buzzed enough to not care. Because, yeah it was stupid and weird and could potentially fuck up the dynamics of the band, but it felt _nice_ and neither of them really wanted to stop. Besides, it would only fuck things up if they let it, which they weren’t going to. They were both familiar with the concept of “one night only” and could easily go back to pretending this never happened, if that was required. So they kept going.

 

At first, it was just Harry’s hand on Zayn’s dick but then Harry was squirming and wriggling and it took Zayn a moment to realise that he was trying to move to the lower half of the bed. So Zayn sat up and moved back so that Harry could have space. When they finally settled into a comfortable position, Harry wasted no time in bringing his lips around Zayn’s cock. Zayn clasped his hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut as Harry sucked him off authoritatively. In fact, Zayn was pretty sure it was the only thing Harry had ever done authoritatively.

 

When he opened his eyes and looked down, he was met with the sight of soft brown curls bobbing up and down and he swallowed hard. He didn’t want this to end so soon. So he slipped his hands into Harry’s hair and gently pulled him up. The younger boy frowned confusedly with swollen, pink lips. And Zayn couldn’t deny that he looked fuckable. And then he chastised himself because he shouldn’t be thinking about fucking his bandmate but the thought had already crossed his mind and he couldn’t get rid of it. Harry seemed to understand this. He grinned mischievously and scuttled over, straddling Zayn’s lap.

“Take it easy on me, yeah?” he whispered jokingly, voice hoarse. Then his eyebrows creased in concentration as he lowered himself onto Zayn’s dick. His face contorted with pain as he adjusted to Zayn’s size and the older boy bit his lip to prevent from crying out with pleasure as Harry’s warmth engulfed him. Harry settled into a manageable pace once he had gotten over the initial pain and his head lolled back. And suddenly Zayn wanted to be in control.

“Flip over,” he whispered commandingly. Harry scampered off him and they were a mess of flailing limbs until Harry was lying on his back, legs in the air, and Zayn was positioned at his entrance. Without hesitation, Zayn slammed into Harry and then he was fucking him blissfully.

 

When Zayn finally came it was an unexpected blitz of white. Every thought in his mind went blank as he flopped onto Harry’s naked, sweaty body. The younger boy (who had come earlier) made a face.

“You did it inside me? I’m all icky now!”

Zayn rolled his eyes.

“You’ll live.”

They lay in silence with intertwined limbs until something occurred to Zayn.

“Harry,” he asked, “have you done that before?”

“Maybe.” Harry shrugged. Zayn let it go. The pair remained motionless. Then Harry spoke.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Zayn reached over and grabbed his phone from the twisted sheets.

“Midnight.”

Harry sighed.

“I should go back to my own bunk.”

“Yeah.”

They struggled to disentangle themselves from the sheets and from each other. When they finally succeeded, Harry slipped out of the bunk and grinned.

“G’night, Zayn,” he whispered.

“G’night Haz.”

And only then was Zayn finally able to fall asleep.

 

The next morning, everything was back to normal. Harry and Zayn behaved the exact same way they always did with each other. The only indication of what had gone on last night was the way Harry flinched ever so slightly when he sat down, a feat that Louis had already made sure to point out. But Harry had simply passed it off as post-concert pains (he always got a little too excited onstage).

 

When the five of them sat down for breakfast, Harry spoke up.

“I have an idea of what we should call the album,” he said.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Harry looked pointedly at Zayn.

“Midnight Memories.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah! I hope you enjoyed that! Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment or anything - absolutely love feedback!


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